


it's not just candles that get blown on birthdays

by armillarysphere



Category: Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:39:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armillarysphere/pseuds/armillarysphere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted anonymously at the XXX Olympic Ficathon for the prompt: <a href="http://lyrics-soul.livejournal.com/10880.html?thread=41344"><i>USA Swimming - Ryan Lochte/Michael Phelps - birthday sex/blowjob/porny goodness basically for Ryan's birthday</i></a></p>
            </blockquote>





	it's not just candles that get blown on birthdays

It doesn't count because he's not the one getting off. That's what Michael keeps telling himself. That's what he told Ryan already when he dropped to his knees and starting pulling at Ryan's pants. 

"Dude."

"Shut up. It's your birthday, isn't it?"

"Jeah. But."

"Just shut up, Ry."

It doesn't count because he's totally not into it right now. He's not getting hard, he's not going to jack off when he gets back to his room. He's not going to ruin his last race at his last Olympics ever just because Ryan's birthday happens to fall the day before. No way. Definitely not.

Except. Except Ryan (the fucktard) keeps making those _noises_ , and he knows, he has to know, what those noises do to Mike. He has to know because he makes them every fucking time Mike sucks him off.

"Oh, fuck, yeah, Mike. Oh, fuck."

Ryan's hips start rocking into it when Michael bobs his head back and forth, closing his eyes in the hopes that it'll make it easier to ignore the throbbing in his groin and the way his pants are getting tighter by the second. It doesn't. It doesn't because that old cliché of all your other senses getting heightened when you lose one rears it's head and with his eyes shut all Mike is aware of is the smell and taste and feel of Ryan's dick as it slips in and out of his mouth, bumping the back of his throat when Ryan's hips jerk particularly hard.

"Shit. Sorry. Sorry."

Michael is quite frankly amazed that Ryan has the sense of mind to apologise for almost choking him, and rewards him by going down until his nose is pressed right into Ryan's pubic bone and staying there, working his throat muscles around the head of Ryan's dick (and what would the journalists say now if they could see the world's greatest olympian giving the world's greatest head?) in time to the rapid pulse of his heart.

Ryan lets out a high-pitched, strangled sound and comes down Michael's throat before he can pull back, forcing him to swallow or else actually choke to death, which he does with a grimace much like a cat horking up something unpleasant, knowing full well that Ryan won't be able to see straight just yet.

He bats Ryan's hands away when he pulls Michael to his feet, putting a good three feet between them and taking a few deep breaths as he stares down at the tent in his pants and wills it to go away.

"Bro-"

Michael cuts him off with a shake of his head, blowing out a sharp breath before he looks up and smiles at Ryan, feeling one side of his mouth twitch up only. He knows his lips look totally abused right now.

"Tomorrow."

"Jeah."


End file.
